


you can take back your misery

by empink



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empink/pseuds/empink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her life was going perfectly until a series of events led to her becoming a shell of the person she was just six months before.<br/>But Laura Hollis is nothing if not determined and she is determined to put herself back together without relying on anyone or anything other than herself for support.<br/>Funny how things never seem to turn out the way we plan.</p><p>Silas Gym AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it comes in waves

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing but an imagination that refuses to let me sleep unless I put the words running through my head down somewhere first. Title based off of All Time Low's Therapy.

Laura stares at the building for a long time before she enters it. She stares at it for so long that when she closes her eyes it’s like they’re still open because she can see each brick as clearly as if they were. The building is as intimidating as it is beautiful; the neat lines of cream brick inter laid with the solid red glow in the dim street lighting, make the turrets on either end of the building look ominous and the white framed windows are stark in their contrast. It’s not until a car flies past the bus stop she’s standing at Laura finally moves, as if the rush of crisp air has suddenly reminded her of the purpose of her trip. Gym bag clutched tightly in her hand she checks for oncoming traffic before stepping off the curb and making for the solid wood doors.

Her heart is fluttering painfully in her chest, beating so hard against her ribcage she feels as though she may be sick from the pressure of it all. She hates that she has been reduced this. To a person who can’t even walk into a new building without feeling as though the atmosphere is pushing in on her, suffocating her from the inside out. But she battles on, stepping onto the adjacent curb and mentally congratulating herself on getting this far. The voice in her head tells her that it’s far enough. That another night laying wide-awake on her bed is the better alternative. For once though she ignores the voice and walks quickly up the two steps and presses the card she had been mailed into the appropriate slot, turning the handle when the light flashes green and placing the card back into her wallet.

The inside of the building does not match the outside. She’s walked into the reception and is a little taken aback by how _modern_ it is.  The room lined with red sofas arranged against the wall in  straight lines, white coffee tables with magazines arranged neatly on the top shine against the white tiles which are  so spotless that she almost tiptoes as she crosses to changing rooms. She’s more than half way across the room before she realises that she is not the only person in the building and starts a little as dark head lifts itself off the desk placed against the wall. The owner of the head yawns and rubs her eyes, Laura sees her glance at the clock on the wall and her eyes narrow a little.

“What are you doing here?” the voice would have been accusatory if the five worlds hadn't spilled out of the girl’s mouth in such a disinterested drawl.

Laura opens her mouth and then closes it again. Her voice cracks and wavers a little when she finally says “I- I was told this was a 24 hour gym?” She hates that everything she says sounds like a question, giving someone an excuse to correct her as if she was always wrong and never in the right.

“It is,” the girl says. “But no one’s ever shown up at 2 in the morning before.”

Laura shrugs and isn't even sure what she mumbles in reply before she shuffles into the changing room. Once she’s there she locks herself in a stall and fights to breath in slow even breaths. The cream walls of the stall swim before her eyes and it takes a sharp flick of the rubber band on her wrist to bring her back from the edge.

Heart still pounding she mechanically changes into her gym clothes and stashes her bag in one of the lockers slotting in a coin and taking the key from the lock, slipping it into the pocket of her shorts and securing the zip. Deftly, she places the ear buds in her ears and clips her iPod into the band on her arm before striding into the equipment room with what she hoped looks like some kind of confidence. In reality she’s digging her nails so hard into her palm that she’s pretty sure she’s drawn blood. She does a few cursory warm ups at the entrance of the equipment room before making her way into the centre of the room.

When she steps onto the treadmill she feels a sense of calm wash over her so powerfully she’s still for a second, finger floating in mid-air above the controls. With a shake of her head she’s brings herself back to earth and sets the treadmill to slow, her feet automatically moving underneath her to keep from being thrown of the machine.

Laura takes a moment to look around her and notes that the girl asleep at the desk had been right. There was no one in sight, all of the equipment was standing stationary and the only noise in the room was her feet hitting the rubber in a calming _thwack thwack thwack_ that she felt vibrate through her body more than she heard.

She runs with her head held high, feeling her honey coloured ponytail tickling her back for a while until all of her senses dim and she just runs. She runs and she runs, losing all concept of time until the treadmill begins to slow, signalling the beginning of the cool down time that she’d preselected.

Her legs wobble when she steps down off the machine and she steadies herself by gripping the handle of one of the stationary bikes nearby until the ground stops shifting and walks shakily back to the changing rooms. She showers quickly, fighting the wall of anxiety that pushes in on her as the water hits her face, determined not to let all of her efforts tonight be wasted by something so _ordinary_ as a god damn shower.

As she dresses in her street clothes she wonders to herself if the girl at the desk will still be there and when she steps back out in reception she is surprised to see that she is, still slumped over the desk, messy hair covering her face. Laura tiptoes over to the door and lets herself out of the building, carefully closing the door silently behind her.

* * *

 

Six months ago Laura Hollis was not some timid girl in a new town going to the gym in the middle of the night because no matter how hard she tired she could just **not sleep**. No, six months ago Laura was one of the most popular girls in her college graduation cohort. She smiled at everyone she met and spent most of her time in crowds of people without feeling like she was on the verge of a breakdown.

Her life was perfectly on track, a gorgeous girlfriend, great grades and exciting opportunities just waiting for her once she graduated. And then one by one those things seemed to disappear. They almost fizzled way in a puddle at her feet until all she could see was a kind of darkness enveloping her. She was fighting for breath every moment of every day and things got so bad that her father had driven to the college, packed her bags for her and moved her back home and into her childhood bedroom.

But instead of getting better things got worse. They got so much worse. So bad that Laura was terrified of what was going in her own head. The thought of leaving the house made her feel physically ill and being in close proximity to a crowd of people was so overwhelming that she even passed out once.

Her father took a leave of absence from work and took her to appointment after appointment before it was decided that the best thing for Laura would be to spend two months in a group care facility. She went dutifully, took the medication that she was given, attended the therapy sessions and completed the assignments.  She was a model patient and at the end of the two months she was discharged with the name of a therapist in the town next to her Dads and a repeat prescription for a cocktail of anti-anxiety medication.

She hated this new version of herself. This new version that took a week to build up the courage to walk to the gym that she had signed up before she left the facility. The version that had to take a variety of pills that left her feeling like she had been hollowed out, void of any extremes in emotion. The version that laid awake at night staring at the ceiling, watching the colours from the muted television change until, at around 5 am, her brain was so exhausted that she dropped into a fitful sleep, full of nightmares.

This version of Laura Hollis was broken. She had been torn down, stripped of her self-belief so mercilessly that overnight she had turned into someone that she didn't recognise. But even this broken Laura was determined. She was determined to overcome the challenges that had been thrown before her. One day, in the not too distant future this new Laura Hollis would be able to accompany her friends to a farmers market, or a cinema without the panic rising in waves. She would be able to open herself up to opportunities that would allow for her to grow and step out into the adult world without the crutch of pharmaceuticals.

This new Laura would continue to fight _every single day_ until she had her life back. She was utterly determined to not let that heartless girl take any more away from her than she already had.  


	2. in the dark of night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything except a bunch of the issues addressed in this fic.  
> If you are struggling with any of the issues mentioned then please,please don't be afraid to ask for help. It does get better,

Laura isn't sure whether to laugh or cry when she's told that part of her therapy plan will be to attend a group therapy session once a week. She's not sure who came up with the cruel idea to force people with crippling social anxiety to socialise in order to overcome their problems.

(In reality she can totally see how it would work but she's too lost in stubborn anger at her situation to give it much thought)

But Laura does as she's told and for the third time since she's moved back in with her father she's stood outside the centre where the sessions take place, fingers curled into fists as the panic rises once again. She hates this place. Hates having to sit in a circle on uncomfortable plastic chairs and count down every single second until the hour is up and she can run outside to escape the crushing feeling in her chest.

She has been forced into that circle twice now and both times she's refused to say a single word. She just sits there with her hands gripping the chair so tightly her knuckles are white and she's kind of worried the plastic's going to snap under the pressure. She refuse to make eye contact with anyone and if anyone asks her a question she just wordlessly shakes her head and continues to stare at the stain on the adjacent wall that looks kind of like a rabbit riding bicycle.

Just like the past two weeks Laura waits until her watch says one minute to six before she forces her feet to move, one in front of the other and takes the ramp up to the door. She feels kind of bad that's she's ignored everyone walking past her and their various greetings, whether it was a nod of the head or a mumbled hello. Truth be told she's learnt a lot from these people in the group in just two sessions. She's learnt from Perry, a girl with wicked red curls that OCD isn't just an intense desire to clean. She's learnt from Lafontaine that not everyone is born identifying the way that society labels them. She's learnt from a guy called Will that people who self-harm are not attention seekers. She’s learnt a lot about other people but not a whole lot about herself.

As though her feet are filled with lead she trudges over to the only empty seat in the circle, making an effort to avoid eye contact with anyone. The second her backside hits the chair, the therapist begins her greeting and the longest hour of Laura’s week commences. She’s become scarily good at tuning out the other’s voices and she passes the first half of the session as if she’s in some kind of trance, lost in her own thoughts. It’s not until she hears someone say her name that she snaps back into reality and says “Pardon?” before she can sensor herself.

There’s a beat where the others in the group glance at each other in surprise and she realises that this is probably the first time they’ve heard her voice. The therapist recovers quickly and repeats her question. “I said how does that make you feel, Laura?” her voice is soft, low and understanding. The words roll off of her tongue in an oddly calming manner and it catches Laura so off-guard that the answer to the questions slips out of her mouth without her being fully conscious of the fact it does.

“It makes me feel numb. Like everything else. I can’t feel anything anymore.”

* * *

 

 

The final half of the session passes a lot quicker than the first half and before Laura realises what’s happening there’s a sound of scraping chairs as the people around her rise from the circle. She shakes her head, a little embarrassed about her small outburst and makes a show of rooting in her purse for something. She keeps her head down until she thinks that the room has cleared out and the zips the purse and gets to her feet, stretching her back and heading for the door.

As she reaches the door way a red head pops around the corner and the girl named Perry is there, twisting her hands awkwardly. Laura’s eyes land on hers before she can help herself and the other girl smiles. “Laura, I just wanted to say,” she begins looking down at the floor before meeting Laura’s eyes again. “That what you said in there… We’ve all felt like that. I just want you to know that it gets better. It really does.”

To Laura’s horror her eyes fill with tears and she squeaks out a hurried “Thanks,” and scarpers out into the fresh air, realising a beat later that the crushing feeling in her chest isn’t as strong as it usually is after these sessions.

Frowning to herself a little Laura rounds the corner to where she knows her Dad’s car is waiting for her and she slides into the passenger seat. “How was it?” her Dad asks once her belt is buckled and he’s looking over his shoulder to reverse out of his spot.

“Fine,” Laura answers in exactly the same way she has the last two weeks. She doesn’t miss the way her Dad’s hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel and the next sentence slips out before she can help herself. “It was good this week. Different.”

Her Dad’s shoulders relax a little and he squeezes her denim covered knee at the red light they draw to a stop at. “That’s great, honey. I’m really proud of you.” Laura can’t help the tear that slips down her cheek, swiping viciously at it and keeping her gaze focused out the window the rest of the drive home.

* * *

 

She’s lying on her bed again, staring at the ceiling unblinkingly the same way that she does every single night. Her TV is muted in the background so she can hear the wind outside and the way the tree outside her window is scraping on the glass.

She can’t sleep. It’s not a surprise to her. She hasn’t fallen asleep before 5am once since everything started to crumble. Instead she just lies there. Lies there and thinks about all the fucking stupid things she’s done and how she’s never going to be happy again. The intrusive thoughts eat at her from the inside out, as they usually do and she gets to the point where she can’t hide her internal agitation.

Her fingers are curled into fists and her toes and clenching and unclenching as she struggles to find any way to realise the tension. She just hates herself. Hates herself to the point that she can’t stand to be inside her own head, constantly thinking about how everyone’s life would be so much better if she wasn’t around.

She starts crying silently and doesn’t bothering wiping the tears, just letting them fall down, trickling into her hair and dampening her pillow. The nights are the worst. Alone in bed she has nowhere to hide from the battle raging inside her. She hates being like this. Hates feeling this way about herself when she knows, on some level, that it’s completely illogical, just an imbalance of the chemicals that run through her body making her feel this way. But it’s just so exhausting having to fight so hard every day.

The tears dry up eventually as she strains to hear any noise in the house. Her Dad went to bed about an hour ago, just before midnight. She excused herself from the lounge at around ten, the same way she does every night. Unable to deal with the cautious looks her throws her way every few minutes. As if she’s going to break into a million pieces right in front of him.He has no idea that she lays awake like this every night. He thinks that she takes the tablets the doctor prescribed and is asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. He has no idea that she waits until she’s sure he’s asleep before creeping down the stairs and out into night.

In the time since she was discharged from the facility she has walked every inch of her neighbourhood maybe a hundred times, following the same root every night until one night she took a different turning and followed the road to the gym that one of the therapists had helped her sign up for. They’d signed her up after she realised that hours she spent in the gym room there helped to calm her and give her something to focus on other than the viciousness inside her head. The therapist had encouraged the distraction, saying that setting goals and working towards something would give her some sort of outlet that she apparently needed.

They’d carefully looked at the three options in the neighbourhood and had eventually settled on Silas Gym for no real reason other than the fact Laura liked the look of the building. And it was 24-hour, so she could go any time of the day or night she became overwhelmed. Secretly Laura knew all along that she would be going late at night when there was a slim chance that anyone would be in there, but of course the therapist didn’t need to know that.

It had taken her a lot longer than she would have liked to admit to do more than walk past the building every night. Nearly three weeks of late night walks had gone by before she stood on the sidewalk with her gym bag clutched in a death grip, plucking up the courage to step inside the building.

The following night, the same night as she had her group session, Laura was stood outside the building again, this time though she had less of a grip on her bag and it only took half an hour to prepare herself to enter. Once she was ready she crossed the road hurriedly and ran up the steps before she could change her mind, buzzing herself into the building and closing the door softly behind her.

This time she had remembered quarters for the vending machine in the reception and inserted the coins into the slot and selected an energy drink. The clanking of the coins and the rumble of machinery woke the girl up on the desk, just as Laura was looking over at the dark figure on the desk, cringing at all the noise she was making.

Their eyes met in the dimmed light for a second and the girls eyes widened a little. “Again?” was all she said. Laura grabbed her drink from the slot and shrugged at her in response, not able to think of any other way to answer her one-worded question.

The girl’s eyes narrowed a little, head tilted to one side as if she was trying to figure Laura out. “Suit yourself, cupcake. It’s all yours,” she gestured at the equipment through the window to her left that overlooked the main gym room.

Laura stared at her for a second and then turned on her heel without another word and made a beeline for the changing room, heart pounding. She took a few gulps of the drink, wincing as the bubbles burnt her throat a little on the way down before trying to calm her shaking hands enough to change out of her street clothes and into the yoga pants and crop top she’d shoved into her bag on the way out of her room.

Today had been a big day, she realised as she stretched on the bouncy rubber floor at the entrance of the equipment room. She had spoken to more people than she had in a long time. The thought struck her all of a sudden. The fact that she could count the amount of people that she had interacted with in the past three months on both hands. She was ashamed of herself; that she had let herself get to such a point and withdrawn so completely from society.

Mental health was a funny thing, she pondered as she climbed onto the elliptical. So many up and down feelings in such a short amount of time. Crying alone in her room one minute and then feeling proud of herself a couple of hours later. She hardly could hardly make sense of herself any more.

Laura set the machine and began her workout, smiling to herself as she felt that glorious stretch in her calves as she pumped her legs faster and faster, until it felt as if she was flying, soaring away from all her insecurities and self-hatred.

She felt free.

For the first time in months Laura felt free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. I just wanted to say (and maybe warn!) that the story is going to be quite a slow-burn and a lot of the focus of the first few chapters will be on Laura and her recovery, but Carmilla will be in every chapter in some shape or form! The length of each chapter will also get longer as we go along, so please bare with me, 
> 
> You know what they say... patience is a virtue. ;) 
> 
> Oh, also, if anyone is interested in being a Beta, please let me know! I'd appreciate help on my atrocious paragraph structure!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought and where you think this story is going, I'm a huge fan of constructive feedback! :)  
> Find me on tumblr @ tattoos-and-tanktops


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